Knocking Until the Door Opens

All the haters said this would never happen.

(To be fair, I don’t actually have haters. Everyone who’s heard about this project has been super supportive. But if I did, this would be a very satisfying take that moment.)

Pro tip: pretend you have haters. It makes you work harder.

Anyway. It’s official: I have presentation dates with McKinsey and BCG.

The ambitious dream of this project is finally… becoming a thing. And yes, I’m relieved. But let’s not rewrite history here, I did not always have it together. There were weeks where I had zero faith in this project. The CEOs might have started warming up to it, but without getting in front of the big consulting firms, the project dident really have a purpose

I’ll give myself some credit: getting these meetings was work. The kind of work where you’re half-convinced you’re wasting your time but you keep going because… what if?

And honestly, I think that made it better. If it had been easy, I’d probably just assume they said yes to everyone and move on with my life. Having to actually hustle for it made the yes feel real like I’d earned it, not stumbled into it.

The Not-So-Secret Strategy

Forget the “one email, one yes” story. My version looked like this: send a message. Send another. Leave a voicemail. Call again. Nudge politely. Nudge again. Basically, become a very polite mosquito.

Here is the story of getting the meetings:

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BCG

To be completely honest, the BCG meeting happened a little earlier in the project.

I messaged the CEO on LinkedIn… and then, silence. For a while. Then out of nowhere, a reply: “Send me the same pitch by email.”

So I did.

We traded a few messages back and forth before he said it sounded interesting but wanted a Zoom to hear more.

Fair enough.

Time to pitch.

Which would’ve been fine… except I had exactly zero interviews done and had just confidently promised him twenty. (Fake it till you make it, right? Preferably without getting caught.)

The days before the call were pure scramble mode, frantically building something that at least looked like I knew what I was doing.

The Zoom came. He listened. Asked smart questions. I deployed my best “totally under control” voice. And then, at the end, he said:

“Okay June, you’re on.”

Cue my brain: Shit. Okay. Great. Perfect. This is happening.

I closed my laptop, stared at the wall for a second, then immediately started scribbling a to-do list the size of a novel. One yes down.

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McKinsey

McKinsey was… not as straightforward.

I sent a LinkedIn message, nothing.

Called, no answer.

Called again, still nothing.

At this pint I felt like the most annoying person in the world

I messaged again — silence.Finally, a reply: “Send me an email.”

Perfect.

Sent the email. Waited a week. Crickets.

So I sent another message. Then another email.

And then, out of nowhere I recive a very nice email, but the only thing I really saw was:

“See you June 27th.”

Suddenly, every awkward call, ignored message, and tiny jolt of “am I being too much?” was instantly worth it.

The Happiness Is… Unreasonable

The high I got from landing these two meetings? borderline unhealthy. Forget buying a new outfit or having a fun night out. This was better.

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What I Learned (Told as a Story, Not a TED Talk)

There was the day I almost didn’t send the first message because I thought it wasn’t “ready.” Guess what? If I’d waited for perfect, I’d still be waiting.

Then there was the week I was convinced I’d annoyed McKinsey into blocking my number.

But here’s the thing: most people stop way too early. The “yes” almost always comes after the moment you think you’ve ruined your chances.

What’s Next

The dates are locked in.

The countdown has started.

In just a few weeks, I’ll be presenting, not to a friendly team there to “hear me out,” but to the partner groups at two of the most powerful consulting firms on the planet. The people who steer billion-dollar clients. The people who’ve seen every pitch, every idea, every type of person walk into that room.

That’s the bar.

Between now and then, I need to wrap up the last round of conversations, hunt down the sharpest insights I can find, and build a presentation that isn’t just polished, but the kind that makes them lean forward, exchange glances, and silently agree: This is worth our time.

When that day comes, I have to give it absolutely everything. Not just to impress them, but to make them genuinely glad they didn’t ignore that second, third, or fifth follow-up email.

If it works, it won’t just be a win over my imaginary haters, it’ll be one of the coolest moments of my corporate career so far.

And yes, I’m stressed. Extremely stressed.

But here’s the weird part: I’m enjoying it. All of it. The late nights, the tight deadlines, the fact that this whole thing started with me pestering strangers on LinkedIn.

Opportunities like this don’t show up often. so you have to GO FOR IT

if you find yourxself in a simmilar situation, GO FOR IT TOO!

-June